An i-con short story which can be read whether or not you are familiar with the story so far. As with all i-con stories, this is meant for adult readers and please be advised that some people may find the contents disturbing...

*

The last of the trucks had gone, and I stood listening to the quiet. The contractors had been here so long I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to hear nothing but my own thoughts.

I looked down at the grass. It was good turf. Short, regular, healthy. The sort of turf you'd only usually see in glossy magazines.

“It's okay then, Mister Matler?”

The Contract supervisor was waiting for my reaction.

I nodded and took the tiny plastic stick he was holding out for me, signing my name on the screen of his rubberised Tab. “Sure, Glen. You've done good.” I told him. “I'll need to go over the warranty details with you again. I'm still not happy about the drainage clause.”

“Do you have your Tab handy?” He asked. “We can arrange a time?”

I shook my head. “Not now. Really, it's okay. I'll just send you a buzz sometime and we'll work something out.”

He waited a moment to see if I'd say anything else, before awkwardly offering his hand. “Well it's been a pleasure working with you, Mister Matler. If there's anything else I can do.”

I took his hand. His hand shake was too soft and he didn't make eye contact.

Basics.

“No. You've done good.” I told him, as his gaze wandered across the new lawn. “Like I said. I'll buzz you.”

And that was that. He thanked me again, and offered an uncomfortable smile to Jodi.

Sorry. I meant to Maggie. He offered an uncomfortable smile to Maggie, and then he slipped away, quietly.

See what I did there? I left the mistake in to show how easy it is to forget. And that's half the trouble. That's why it's so hard.

After the company man had gone, we stood there. I don't know how long for. Just us and the grass. Until Maggie said, “Do you like it?”

I wanted to answer. But I couldn't. To all intents and purposes this was a lovely garden that could have been here for years. There were Hydrangea bushes and little herb beds. Even a well established Rowan. But all I could see was the pool.

They'd made sure that there was no visible trace of the old pool's outline. You'd probably need a deeply penetrating thermal scan from a satellite to know it had even been there, but it was still all I could see. Maybe with time.

“Can we see her stone?” Maggie asked.

She took hold of two of my fingers and walked me forward to the little dip, where, sheltered from view by flowering shrubs, Jodi's little monument had been laid.

“I think she'd like it.” Maggie said. “And I can bring flowers.”

“Yes.” I said. For want of something better to say. “Shall we tell mummy it's ready?”

You may have heard that at times of extreme stress, when life is on the line; at those moments when there is only do or die; that human beings gain strength beyond the limits of nature. Take it from me that this is not true.

I didn't even hear Liberty scream until she was standing in front of me. The noise cancelling effect of the Virt-you filtered out any trace of her hysteria until she broke into my game in a flurry of wet fingers and panic.

“It's Jodi!” She was pulling me like I was a mule, dragging me so hard that wires were snapping and hardware was clattering to the floor.

I followed, unsure of what to expect. I still see that moment now, as if it was captured on a home vid. I never remember it through my own eyes. The way I see it, to this day, is though the lens of a shaky camera as it follows us out the back of the house and through the garden, up the steps past the garages to the summer house and the pool, where there was only the unbroken clear turquoise of the water to greet us.

“She's trapped!” Liberty screamed. “I only did a couple of lengths! I'm so sor-” and then she was in, diving head first across the width of the pool to the aluminium ladder as I caught my first sight of Jodi and my legs began to buckle under me like warm dough. I hit the water too, thrashing and flailing through the crystal clear liquid as I tried to force through to where my little girl was drowning, held in place by the silvery tubes as the last of her life's breath slipped away from her.

I saw the little bubbles rising from her nose. I saw her eyes, staring out at me. I could still hear Liberty's screams in that muffled world under the water, as she tried to force Jodi's arm free. Hardly even noticing her, I took hold of the bars and heaved so hard I something snap close to my shoulder. But it was no use.

We both surfaced, Liberty and I. Gasping for breath, wild eyed, trying to make ourselves heard, screaming orders at each other, our hands beating ineffectively against the now swirling surface of the pool, before heading back down for another useless attempt to bring our little girl back to the surface and the world of air.

Nobody should go through it.

Really.

I mean nobody.

We tried moving the ladder. We even tried breaking Jodie's arm. I – I took her tiny arm between my hands and - I tried to...

It didn't work.

A shadow fell over us. I didn't know it at the time but Liberty had hit the panic button on her way to the house. Arxdomus guardians were descending from their gravity-defying air sled, with their red ropes twisting beneath them like serpents against the deep blue of the evening sky.

“Mister Matler? My name is Torbin Drew. I represent Equinoxe Healthdebt Reduction Partnerships.”

There was a card in my hand which he had just put there. I looked down at it and watched the reflections dance on its surface.

“Mister Matler?”

I was supposed to say something. That was it. He was waiting for me to speak.

“I'm sorry, what?”

He was thin. His hair was too straight. His glasses too black. A crow. “Mister Matler, my name is Torbin Drew. I represent Equinoxe Healthdebt Reduction Partnerships.” He was holding his hand out to me again, but this time there was no card in it.

I was supposed to shake his hand, I think. But I had a card in mine.

“Mister Matler, I really am so terribly sorry for your loss. But I believe I can be of use to you at this difficult time.”

That got my attention. I focused on him all over again. “You can?” He didn't look like a surgeon. More like an accountant.

He must have guessed what I was thinking. He shifted uncomfortably and adjusted his glasses. “I don't mean erm, medically, Mister Matler. I'm talking about the cost of your health care while Jodi is at this Hospital.”

I looked at him, a bad feeling cooking inside me.

“You've most likely already been told that Jodie has no higher brain activity. That she's being kept alive by machines which do the job of breathing for her. Although she's in no pain, there is also no chance of her recovering from the state she is in.”

I knew this. Why was he telling me all this bad stuff again? I wanted him to go.

“The sad truth is, Mister Matler, that the hospital would love to keep Jodi in this state for the next sixty years. They'll let you visit her every day if you like. They really won't mind, because you'll be picking up the bill, or rather, your insurers will.”

All those words. Jodie was lying in white linen sheets in the middle of the day because I couldn't break her arm. I was learning that fact. Coming to terms with it, as they say. But all those words the skinny man was babbling? They were just... Lip junk. I shook my head and turned away. What ever he was saying wasn't making Jodi better. It didn't matter.

He put his stern voice on. “Mister Matler, The cost of keeping your daughter medically functional for the next twenty years will run to almost eight million Newbank dollars.”

I stopped. Not because the figure had impressed me, but because his tone made it clear that this was more important than I thought. I replayed what he had just said, trying to see if I'd missed something.

“And?”

“As I said, Mister Matler, I represent Equionoxe Healthdebt Reduction Partnerships. I'm here as a kind of bridge between you and your medical insurers to offer you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Well, Mister Matler. I'm glad you asked.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a silvered Tab. “Now, how old was your daughter on her last birthday?”

“Officer, I really am most dreadfully sorry.” Liberty was saying. “But you can imagine what we must be going through.”

“Don't worry, Ma'am.” The guy from ProPol told her, as Liberty authorised the release fee. “We get it a lot. Damned ambulance chasers shouldn't be allowed anywhere near the ER.”

The man dressed like a cop turned his attention to me. “Now, sir. Like I said. We're not charging you beyond the usual call out fee, but you can expect the alleged victim of your alleged assault will press charges. You'll receive further instructions over the next couple of days and you're bound to appear once a date for trial has been set. Unless you'd rather pay automatically, in which case all you need to do is authorise this when the first instruction appears. Do you understand?”

“He tried to get me to kill her.”

He shuffled uncomfortably and took a little breath. “I'm aware of that, sir. It really isn't my job to get involved.”

“Let her die and take a share of the cost savings.”

The man sighed. He'd gained a little weight since his uniform was first ordered. Either that or he liked to feel tight buttons on his pseudo military shirt. “Sir. I'm sorry for your loss.” He said. And I believed him.

“Yes. I understand.” I nodded.

He held out his Tab for me and I signed in the box marked 'Client'.

We hadn't moved from her bedside except to grab spare clothes and to eat. During that time we'd spoken, but not about what had happened to Jodi. It had been an accident. Pure and simple. I didn't blame Liberty for it and I think she was grateful for that. I wouldn't say the tragedy had brought us closer. But it didn't look like it was going to tear us apart either. For my part, I was far too lost in grief to have the energy to fight. We suffered along side each other, both weighed down with the unspeakable burden which we both carried but could never hope to share. Occasionally we held hands. But more usually we just sat. Listening to the mechanical lung as it filled her with slow breaths of stale hospital air.

We slept in shifts. That was always the hard part. We took to the habit of waking each other and staying until who ever had woken had finished crying. We simply couldn't handle going through that awful moment alone, without someone to hold on to while the shakes did their bit and the agony gradually slipped down beneath the surface again.

But day five was where Maggie came in.

Quite out of the blue, while Liberty was grabbing some rest, the sound of the door behind me broke the silence. The room was dark, as usual, with just the minimal lights around Jodi's bed and a small reading lamp for myself. It took me a moment to make out the shape of Doctor Byron at the door. White hair tied back from her pale face. White coat. White stickings.

“May we join you, Mister Matler?” she asked. I looked harder and noticed a mobility chair by her side.

I hadn't spoken for several hours, so I found it easier to nod than shout across the room. I watched them enter. Doctor Byron, late middle aged, still walking tall. Pretty once, I expect. And next to her, half hidden by soft blankets, the head and shoulders of a young child riding in the mobility chair like a fragile mannequin. Her head was bobbing as the wheels made contact with a narrow ridge in the shiny floor tiles.

“Mister Matler this is Margaret.” Doctor Byron said lightly. “She's asked to come and see Jodi, if you don't mind.”

I wasn't sure if I did. I looked at Margaret, her dark eyes drifting randomly in their sockets. Her mouth and facial expression misshapen by failed nerve messages. It was a terrible thought. But my first instinct was to worry if Jodi might catch it off her.

As if in answer to my question, Doctor Byron explained. “Margaret has Cerebral Palsy.” she said, as Jodi took another mechanical lungful of air. “but that's not the worst of her worries, is it, Maggie?”

Margaret let out a grunt that sounded like a conspiratorial laugh.

“Margaret's got another condition that's altogether more nasty. A viscous little nerve-eating form of MS known as Addison's syndrome. There's not a lot we can do for her other than help her come to terms with the inevitable. She knows what's going to happen to her, don't you Maggie?”

Another strangled grunt.

“We're just helping her come to terms with it.” Doctor Byron let out a sigh. “Which is why we're here. Margaret wondered if she was the only sick girl in the world. We've had quite a tour today, haven't we, Maggie?”

“{Hello my name is Maggie.}” A synthesised voice announced from Margaret's direction. “{Can you tell me what happened to you daughter?}” Her eyes span some more as I struggled to find the words.

“Yes, I er...” She made another little grunt. “She – I mean Jodi- She got stuck under water. We have – erm. We have a pool.”

It took a while for her reply. She had a little screen but the way her pupils were dancing I couldn't figure quite how she was using it. “{Did she drown?}”

“Well, not exactly. She's still alive. I think drowning means you're dead.” Did it? What do you call it when someone isn't dead? By the time I'd finished pondering the logic of it, Margaret had something else to say.

“{She's lovely.}”. She took a breath in a kind of snort. Was she smiling? “{Sleeping princess waiting for a kiss.}” I recognised it then. Another snort. She was laughing.

I found myself smiling for the first time in I don't know how long. “No use, kiddo. I tried it already.”

She made another wet sound, swivelling her head around to Doctor Byron to see if she got the joke.

“{Mister Matler is not a prince. But Jodi is very lucky.}”

Doctor Byron raised an eyebrow. “Why's that, sweetie?”

It took a while for the reply to come through. I turned my attention back to Jodi as the little monitors by her bed blinked their meaningless code into the darkness surrounding us.

“{She is so beautiful.}” Margaret's synthetic voice announced. “{And she has a daddy.}”

It was a nice thing to say. Ordinarily I might have thanked her. But I was still trying to get my head around the idea that anyone could think Jodi- in such a state as that – could be lucky.

“{When is she going to wake up?}”

I looked at her. At Margaret, I mean. I wanted to tell her it wouldn't take long. I wanted to say something like - ”Oh, a few days yet.” but the words didn't come. Until that moment, I'd been waiting for something to happen. Five days of bedside vigil. More than a hundred hours waiting for some sort of change. A sign. A turning point. And right there. Right at that moment. It all made sense.

Not good sense. But the logic suddenly seemed inescapable.

I took a deep breath to say that Jodi was never going to wake up, but before I had the words out I'd exploded into an avalanche of sobbing.

I'd just let go of my little girl.

The air was clean, after the dust dry spent dryness of the hospital it seemed almost sweet. Doctor Byron had bought me a coffee and we sat at a crowded cafeteria in Laming Park, where children ran on green grass, and dashed between fountains which spurted randomly as they squeaked with wide eyed delight again and again.

“I love coming here.” she said, stirring her coffee and casually wiping some of the spilt sugar granules from the dark wooden table slats. “It reminds me that children have voices. Spend a month on Manningham Ward and you end up thinking that all kids are really Trappist Monks in disguise.”

I nodded. “They don't make a whole bunch of noise, do they?”

She rolled her pale blue eyes, face lines creasing as she smiled. “Tell me about it. You know, I just wish we had some kids who could be naughty some times! I almost dream of it. Just to hear one of them shout, or steal my Tab; anything!”

A hundred metres away, a little hispanic boy mistimed his fountain dodging and slipped on a wet patch of grass. He landed heavily on his rear and started howling in shock. Moments later he'd zombie-shuffled his way to Mom, who wrapped her arms around his soaking shoulders and tried not to laugh.

Doctor Byron blew the top of her coffee thoughtfully. “I kid you not, Dean. There are a few dozen parents on my ward who would give their back teeth to have behavioural problems with their kids. When you think about how angry kids can make you...” She trailed off. Deep in thought, before sighing hard.

“Well, let's just say that angry on Manningham would be a miracle.”

I opened the Snapper and broke a piece off. The wrapper started to sing the Snapperday theme tune and the little kids under the logo jived in time with the tinny recording. I tapped it and they became still again. “How's Maggie doing?”

She didn't answer straight away. Her Tab bleeped and she paused to give it her attention. “Sorry. Just got to okay some interns' prescriptions.” She pressed a few buttons and I turned my attention back to the kids.

Those parents out there. I thought. They have no idea. They go through their lives like everything is set in stone, and they have no clue -not the slightest inkling- just how close tragedy rides behind them.

“It's hard isn't it?” Doctor Byron said. “When you see everyone else carrying on as normal. You feel like they should all be aware somehow. About what's happening to you?”

For a moment it seemed spooky. But then it was obvious. She must have had this conversation a thousand times.

“Maggie's got a month at the most. Her body's giving up and there's nothing we can do about it now apart from make her comfortable. In layman's speak that means we pump her so full of pain killers that she hasn't even got a clue who she is. Eventually she'll be gone and that will be that. Such a waste of a brilliant mind.”

“So her mind's not affected?”

She took a sip of coffee. “Well, that's rather tricky to say. Her brain is suffering from the same sort of neural paralysis that is affecting the rest of her body, but the higher functions- conscious thoughts- they are all pretty well as healthy as yours or mine. For Margaret it's like being trapped in a sinking ship, I guess.”

I looked at the Snapper wrapper, where the kids were frozen in their jubilation. “It's crazy isn't it? Jodi's body is completely untouched. She could get up tomorrow, if she could only find her way back. And there's Maggie, with a bright, healthy mind – what?”

Doctor Byron was looking at me. Sympathy in her eyes, but something else. Something stronger. “Dean. I'm sorry, but we've discussed this already. It's important that you understand.”

I deflated. For a moment I'd forgotten. “Sorry. I know. You're right.”

She shook her head and put her cup down. As my eyes misted over I felt her hand on mine. “Jodi isn't lost. She's not battling. She's not trying to get back. She died more than a week ago.”

I took a big breath and closed my eyes. Absolute Affirmation they called it. Get people to face up to the facts as soon as possible. No matter how much it tears their insides apart. All part of the service.

I held my breath and covered my eyes until the urge to sob had passed. When I let it out again Doctor Byron had a white napkin ready for me to dab my face. I took it and found myself apologising again.

She didn't stop me. I blew my nose and took a shaky breath.

“Margaret doesn't have parents.” Doctor Byron said, absently. Her eyes on the middle distance. “She's a ward of the state. I sometimes think it's better that way. But then I don't really. I think, deep down, we all want somebody out there who can grieve for us.”

Her tab bleeped again. She glanced at it and I saw her face change.

“Look, I've got to get going. Will you be okay?”

She was on her feet before I could answer, but she paused until I'd nodded consent.

“Right, Well I'll see you later.” She said, matter of factly. “I've got a severe head trauma coming in. The fun never stops.”

And then she was gone.

I watched the kids a while longer as my coffee cooled. A gentle breeze stirred the first of the year's fallen leaves and they swirled for a moment like dancing fairies.

Liberty's fists were bunched so tightly I think she might have even cut her palms.

“There is just no way that we're having this conversation, Dean! No way on this earth!”

I felt my own heart racing. The frustration of it. The urge to shout. The fear that if I couldn't turn her around we would miss the chance forever.

If I could only make her see. “It's a second chance, Lib!”

“No it's not!” She shot back. “It's disgusting! It's a fucking freak show! It's not natural and it's not right!”

“Please, Liberty. Maggie's going to die!”

She whirled, eyes bulging, face red. “Fine!”

Now I was shouting. “It's not fine at all! We've got a chance to save her life and you're too selfish to take it!”

There was nowhere for her to go. Short of throwing the table at me, Liberty had already reached the height of her rage. She stood there, shaking. Consumed by fury. “Too selfish? That's my daughter's body you're talking about giving away! Our daughter, Dean! Remember her? Our Jodi?.” She took hold of my jacket. “Or is she just a set of spare parts to you now?”

“Libbie-” I put out my hand to try to smooth the hair out of her eyes, but she smacked it away.

“Don't you Libbie me!” She spat. “Don't you ever fucking Libbie me.”

She must have seen me deflate because she let go of me and backed off. Perhaps she even calmed down a little.

For a while neither of us said anything. It was me who spoke.

“Will you at least see her?”

“No.”

“Oh for Christ's sake. Why not? What harm will it do if your mind's made up?”

“Because she's not a fucking pet shop puppy, Dean!” she wiped her nose with the back of her trembling hand. “Because I'm not going to walk up there and go all misty eyed and tell you it's all okay. Because my daughter is sacred to me, and there's no way I'm going to let some fucking crippled orphan girl have her fucking body like a fucking spare dress.”

I looked at her for the longest time. “Then she dies.”

“Fine.” Liberty said. “Then she dies.”

The mechanical lung was still helping itself to great big servings of nitrogen and oxygen. Liberty squeezed my fingers again, stoking our little Jodi's hair with her free hand.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked.

Liberty sighed. “No.” There were slow tears running down her cheeks. We'd cried plenty over the last week. We'd had the remembrance service. We'd registered her death. We'd signed the forms. And now we were saying goodbye for the last time. Yet again.

“There's no chance?” Liberty asked. She knew the answer, of course. But somehow we both needed to keep hearing it in the days leading up to this point.

“No. She's not coming back to us, Libbie. Jodi's gone.”

“Mrs Matler?” Doctor Byron was already dressed in her surgeon's gown.

Liberty stiffened visibly. “Okay, Okay! Just give me a minute.” She turned her gaze back to Jodi again, and then to me. Her eyes were wells of pain. Like nothing I'd ever seen.

“I can't do this.” She whispered. “Dean. I can't. Please.”

I took a step towards her and she melted into me. Holding onto my shoulders like a frightened child. We'd discussed this moment. We'd both promised that we'd spare each other the last minute theatrics. It was going to be hard enough without that.

Mercifully, Liberty let me lead her away. Somebody opened the door for us and we stepped out into the corridor.

We walked, although we had nowhere to go. After we'd taken a few more steps together, the door closed, and we never saw Jodi again.